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A House, Drifting Sideways
by Rahul Kanakia
On the morning of my fund day, our pilot landed the house with a particularly gentle touch. I was probably the only family-member who felt the house kiss our Philadelphia docking station. I abandoned my desk and went to the window. A crowd of grubby locals from the adjacent Suareztown had already gathered around the marble pediment of the docking station. It might be hours before we began recruiting, but they had no better use for their time than jostling for a place near the house's entrance. Although Father refused to indulge their pretensions to serfdom by directly sharing our family's arrival times with the Suareztowners, some groundskeeper had probably told them, days ago, that we were coming.
The leading edge of the crowd was just fifty feet below me. The mass of dirty limbs and garishly clothed torsos swayed, and arms were raised up. I waved, and the carpet of humanity rippled in time to my movements. I presumed they were cheering.
For years they had cheered me on the basis of the slenderest hope that I could help them. Today, I was finally going to fatten up those hopes.
I saw several phones raised high in the air. They were taking photos of me. I grimaced, and made the window opaque with a tap. I was glad that Yasmina, the remote operator who watched me on most days, had interpreted that gesture right. Last time, she thought I wanted to open the window. I flashed a thumbs up to the empty air and was rewarded when a whisper-soft "Thank you, ma'am," dribbled out of the speakers.
Once, I'd loved being photographed, but my looks had suffered during my long exile. I was no longer the energetic sixteen year old waif with short hair and a size 2 frame that had fashion designers competing to dress me. Now, my waistline had expanded, and my face had begun to acquire my mother's florid features. I wasn't ugly, but I'd lost my youthful vividness. And that was fine. It would only make it easier to recapture the public imagination: the tabloids would glory in calling attention to my physical deterioration.
The intercom chimed. Andreas, the house's chamberlain, said, "We have just landed in Philadelphia. First, I and all the staff would like to join together in wishing Natalia a happy twenty-first birthday. It has truly been a pleasure to watch you grow up into such a poised young woman. Second, your mother and father would like to remind you that you have a presentation to make in one hour, at today's family status meeting, and that a birthday celebration has been scheduled for you this evening."
On the other side of the door, one of the guards groaned. The servants hated Andreas' updates, but I appreciated them. Of course Andreas hid all kinds of nonessential information from us, but the public nature of his updates reassured me that he wasn't actively lying to us.
Andreas continued, "Carmina, Mr. Suarez is running fifteen minutes late. Please delay his breakfast. Guards, take your places by the entrances. Recruiters, stay by your screens, we should have initial procurement information available within the—"
I snapped my fingers. The intercom went silent: another victory for Yasmina.
Normally I liked to listen to the full morning update in order to ensure that my penny-pinching father hadn't fired half the staff during the night, but I needed to prepare for the meeting.
Luckily, my presentation consultant was based in McKinsey's Vientiane office, where it was already tomorrow. I called him up on the wall screen and let the sweating man— of those loathsome MBAs that even the most socially conscious owner must sometimes enrich— expound upon the analysis I'd commissioned. Our consultation was constantly interrupted, though, by birthday congratulations from a number of friends and relatives.
Finally, my cousin Letitia called.
"Happy fund day," she said. "It's been too long! You look…good."
I hadn't spoken to Letitia in years. Her father thought my father's stinginess was unconscionably boorish, and they took turns cutting each other dead at various public gatherings.
"I'm ready to reenter society," I said. "Can you help me?"
"I'd heard you wanted to come back," she said. "But doesn't your dad still have a veto?"
"A joint veto," I said. "I think I can persuade Mother."
"Your mom? But she's poor. Why does she get a vote?"
"Our family operates rather democratically," I said.
"All right then," she said. "I'll have you set up in no time."
"I'll send the money later today. You'll have five percent of my fund to play with. Your activities should be in line with the latest fashions. I don't want my people to be ashamed of me."
"We'll start with a spritz from the air. It's no problem. I'm happy to help!" Letitia would expect to be paid well for her "help." Since most of Letitia's fund had been stolen by a deceitful financial manager, she was little more than a servant nowadays.
I ended the call and tried to concentrate on my slides, but my heart was beating too fast. This felt just like the first time I had tried to pilot the house. After I'd taken control, we'd dropped ten thousand feet in a few minutes. During the dive, I'd quickly run out of ideas as to what to do, and I'd just sat there stock-still and quiet. The housepilot, Amit, laughed and waited until we were a few thousand feet from crashing before he took over.
Johan was in the West receiving room, lying on his back and chanting, with his belly stretching up into the air. I smiled. The backpacker had been wandering the house for eight weeks, ever since he'd responded to my online proffer of couch space. Johan was the latest in a series of servant-class itinerants whom I'd tried to befriend during my parentally-imposed exile from polite society.
As I passed, he said, "Where are we? Yesterday it was snowing, but today it's sunny."
The wallscreen right next to him showed an up-to-the-minute itinerary, but, of course, to Johan that wall would be blank.
When I stepped into the sunroom, a glass table extruded from the wall and a section of floor rose up and reconfigured itself as a seat. Carmina entered from behind a sliding panel and put a bowl of mixed fruits on the table. I wondered what she saw on the screens. Probably the prices of seasonal produce. We always ate local.
"Carmina," I said. "Could you print a copy of our itinerary for my guest? Please underline that we're here for eight days and that our next destination is Mexico City."
"So we'll definitely stay here tonight?" Carmina said. She clapped her hands together. "I would really like to attend the party at the Klein/Sandoval house tomorrow."
Mother and Father liked to joke about the fad for democracy that had given Carmina a number of invitations to households where they themselves had never been received, but they refused to see that this fad was being used to deliver some very calculated insults to our family.
I paused my fork in mid-air. The house groaned, settling down into its foundations. As usual, no one else noticed. I was the only one with ears for the house. I was awake to its snorts, when clogs in the pipes were blasted free with an increase in pressure, or its twice-daily sneezes, when cleansing fluids misted all its inner workings, or the long inhalation right before it leapt into the air. The house was alive to me, and dead to everyone else. For years, I'd looked forward to inheriting it and rescuing it from Father's neglect. But, after today, I wasn't sure I'd be welcome here anymore.
I arrived in the executive suite fifteen minutes early to make sure that Fritz, Father's personal assistant, had printed the agendas and loaded the slides onto the conference table, which was currently showing a large picture of Grandfather. I wondered if that was Father's doing.
Before his death two years ago, Grandfather's disdain for me had driven him to make several comments to the media regarding my shallowness and stupidity. Father had convinced him not to cut me out, but Grandfather had made several last-minute changes to his will that had led us to today's impasse.
Father came in exactly at nine. He embraced me and said, "Happy birthday! Tonight's party will be great fun. I kept it to limited attendance."
That was Father's polite way of saying that attendance was limited to whichever members of our family loved him so much that they were willing to endure the social stigma of being seen at his table. Most of the large owners were disgusted at how Father had steadily downsized our household since Grandfather's death; he'd fired hundreds of long-time servants without providing any pensions.
Father sat on the edge of his seat and studied the papers that Fritz handed him. Mother came in fifteen minutes late, wished me a happy birthday, then reclined in her chair, and glanced through the papers.
As usual, she went first.
"Let's see here," she said. She flipped through the papers. "I've got five surgeries scheduled today. Fritz has the details attached as an annex somewhere in this mess. Bottom line: I'm being paid about eleven grand. The total expense to the family, including amortization of the tele-operating suite in the basement, uplink time, technician time, etc, etc, is about five thousand, for which I'll fully reimburse you."
Father and I approved Mother's schedule without any discussion. The last time we'd used our family veto had been four years ago, for their twenty-fifth anniversary. She'd suffered through the party with such a sullen simulation of good humor that we now purchased her at her hourly rate whenever we needed her time.
Father's schedule presented more difficulties. I had not wanted to anger him prematurely, but when the picture of Grandfather was replaced by a patched-in feed from Suarez headquarters, I knew that we were about to be subjected to more of Father's cheapjack buffoonery. On the screen, Morris Kenneman, the CEO of Suarez Industries, rubbed his jowls with his weathered hand.
I leaned in to the camera so that my face filled the outgoing picture. "You don't belong in here. This is a family meeting."
In that slow voice of his, the CEO rumbled, "Hell, Nat, you know I'm just a hired hand. When your dad claps, I've gotta jump."
Father held a majority of the company's voting shares and had uneasily occupied the chairmanship of the Board ever since Grandfather's death, but he remained overawed by the CEO— had been one of Grandfather's protégés.
"Come, come," Father said. "I just wanted Mr. Kenneman's opinion on some expenses. At the request of some…some interested parties"— anonymous letter from some of our workers— "I'm here to take a look at the mining concerns. Now, Fritz says that his cousin can rent us a car for about $100, and with all the expenses, including gas and Fritz's time, the day shouldn't cost more than $750. And really, I think that just a day should be fine, don't you, Mr. Kenneman?"
"No," I said. "That is unacceptable. These people have spent their lives working in mines bearing your name, and you want their first glimpse of you to be rolling up a dusty road in a single car? How will they be able to trust your judgment? This will be a disaster! Productivity will plummet! Did you learn nothing from last year's oil field strike?"
"I don't want to step on any toes," Father said. "We have managers to deal with the workforce."
"The managers are part of the workforce," I said.
"Do you want to end up like Taru Mittal?" Father said. "His father meddled too much in the business, and they lost everything. No, I'm not going to subvert my own managers."
"Haven't we seen the folly of trusting MBAs?" I said. "They've robbed the whole world blind, and now they're robbing you too. The mines are probably failing because the managers are siphoning off assets. No, you've ducked your responsibilities as an owner for too long, but surely you see the necessity of showing the workers that you are the real boss. The minimum you'll need is four helicopters, a team of accountants, a business processes analyst, an armored car, a driver, a caterer, a mobile kitchen, an event planner, guards, wardrobe, lighting, servers, and…oh, of course you'll want to hear grievances and dispense gifts…the workers need to trust you enough to disclose to you the crimes of their managers…"
I continued gently trying to educate Father as to his responsibilities, while Morris Kenneman looked on. His deep eyes were a nest of wrinkles; he never spoke, except sometimes to say, "Good point" after one of my salvoes. He knew that someday he'd be working for me. Still, after a few moments, Father called for a vote, and Mother sided with him, overriding me.
"Wonderful." Father said. "Can you make the arrangements, Fritz?"
The assistant nodded and glanced up at the ceiling. Somewhere, Andreas was watching. Andreas never let anything slip.
I snapped a finger and pointed at the screen. Morris Kenneman unceremoniously disappeared.
"Well then," Father said. "You should have gained control of your trust fund today, but, because of your Grandfather, you're unfortunately just getting a vote. However, you've been good and quiet for so long that your mother and I are prepared to let you set up a life outside this house, as long as you're not too extravagant. This money has to last for the rest of your life, and maybe your children's' lives too. But…well…why don't you tell us what you're thinking?"
"I'm thinking of taking upon myself the responsibilities that you've abrogated," I said.
With a wave of my hand, I called up my first slide and began describing the Natalia Suarez Foundation: a tax-exempt charity dedicated to bettering the standard of living in all seventy-eight Suareztowns. I proposed donating 95 percent of my trust fund to my eponymous charity over the next ten years.
Father attempted to cut in, but I spoke over him. Finally, he exploded, "Don't be absurd! Your Grandfather spent his life earning that money. Do you really think I'm going to let you give it away? You might as well be burning it!"
After he'd gone on for some time, I called a vote to approve disbursement of the first tranche of funds to the NSF.
Father burst forth with more objections right as Mother said, "Okay." We outvoted him.
While the argument continued, I told Fritz to witness the decision, scan it, and send it to Letitia. He smiled at me for a long moment before bending his head to examine the documents.
Andreas met me in the stairwell. "Did you hire the agitators?" I said.
"They're moving through the crowd right now," Andreas said. "The news crews are waiting at the south entrance."
"Good, keep the cameras away from me until the right moment."
Andreas smiled at me, and I swear that it was the first time I'd ever seen his facial expression change.
I descended.
The Lower Quadrant was the belly of the house. It encompassed the garages, kitchens, servant's quarters, storage, and engine rooms and was served by the North Entrance: a two story metal arch that opened onto the marble surface of the docking station.
Johan was down there, sitting on a wheel well and heating tea on a portable burner he always carried with him.
Anxious for my moment, I approached the entrance. At the scanning stations, the guards were carefully searching the new hires for weapons and parasites. Farther out, recruiters were assessing the crowd that had gathered beyond the arch.
In front were tired men with old faces who had worked for us before and had been in the system for years. They stood quietly, often holding boxes of tools, because they knew the recruiters were familiar with their skills, which ranged from plumbing to debt collection, about which you can find more, and that if we needed them, then they'd be hired. Behind them was a clamoring mob of young men, some of them shirtless, who waved their ID cards and vied with each other in making claims about how long and how hard they could work. Some threw their ID cards forward, at the recruiters, in the hope that the card would be picked up and scanned into the system instead of being trampled underfoot. Snaking along one edge of the crowd was a line of men and women in business attire. This line attempted to stay in contact with the entrance, but it also wriggled fitfully whenever the boisterous working men came too close. Off to the side was a little clot of women— dressed in chic, if dirty, clothes— stood up on their toes and shouted at me, calling me "Natalia" or even "Tally". They cried out that they'd played with me when I was a kid, and didn't I remember how I'd come to their house all the time and taken tea. They probably weren't lying. I'd played in so many Suareztowns over the years.
Down at the base of the docking station, the Philadelphia Suareztown was almost empty. It was a tightly-packed shantytown sprawled over many acres. The richest homes— the families of our permanent house-servants often lived— silvery trailers that had sunken into the mud. Slightly less affluent were the houses made of scavenged plywood, with roofs of corrugated tin that you can find out more about there. Others lived in nylon tents, or mud huts, or lean-tos propped against ruined buildings. Cooking fires still burned in places, tended by distant figures: the ones too old, crazy, disabled, or depressed to engage in the job search. Most of the estate was given over to parks and gardens that constrained the growth of the Suareztown. But even in the gardens there were patches of ground that were scarred and blackened: places where dwellings or illicit crops had been burned away to prettify the estate for our arrival.
While we were docked, this Suareztown would bloom like a desert after a rainstorm. Pipes that only flowed when the house was docked would scrub clean the refuse-strewn alleyways and allow these people their first decent showers in ages. Electricity illicitly tapped from the house would light up a few of the wealthier homes, where dozens would gather at night to watch television or listen to music. Men would come back from the house with their pockets full of money and put new shoes on their children. Their families would eat hamburger for the first time in months. At night, there would be dancing atop the marble docking station. Liquor would flow. Debts would be repaid. Minds that were used to thinking only of food would open up and find room for love. Young couples would ask Father for his blessing and after he irritably waved them off they would hold their weddings under the arch of the North Entrance and carry on until late in the next morning.
When we left, a little bit of that life would remain. Maybe someone would use a fully charged battery to power a phone, so they could search for jobs, or a light, so they could keep up with their studies. Maybe one of the permanent staff-members would marry a local or father a child and continue to send remittances for awhile. Maybe someone in this crowd would be hired on permanently and their family would move into a trailer. But mostly the town would lapse into silent, tenacious struggle. There'd be thefts and killings and beatings. Old hustles would be trotted out. Some would sicken, or starve. Others would move away, hoping to find a better village, and leave their homes open to those arriving from worse villages. All would anxiously pass the business gossip to each other, hoping that each little rise or dip in Father's portfolio heralded another visit from us. They knew that our next visit might not be for ten years, and they'd regret not having made the best of this one. This link explains it in more detail.
Theirs was a tragic life, but it was the life to which they'd been born. I could pour my whole fortune into that hole without improving it. I wasn't the cause of their poverty. Their livelihoods had been stolen by much more cunning people than I: people who'd held it for only a few moments before squandering it. My fortune was merely that portion of the world's wealth which had not yet been destroyed by that insatiable manager-class of MBAs.
I heard the sound of my helicopters. There were two up there, and a third arriving. Johan sauntered up to me.
"I still can't believe people live like this," Johan said.
"Is your village much better?" I said. "What family do you follow? I hear that the Stern-Hsus have spent considerable money on cosmetic improvements."
"I don't live in a village…I'm from Houston," Johan said. "I lived in a nice, little suburb. My parents have jobs. I went to college."
"Did you?" I said. "I never saw the point in it."
"I guess you wouldn't," he murmured. The sound of the helicopters almost drowned out his words.
Bits of paper started falling from the sky. My men and women in the crowd must've done their work well. Long before the first piece of paper was low enough to be clearly seen, hands were reaching up for it.
The crowd surged away from the entrance. The Suareztowners were jumping up and down, trying to snatch money out of the sky. Then my embedded agitators started the chant. Soon the whole crowd was shouting, "Natalia! Natalia! Natalia!" as they jumped.
The guards moved amongst them, looking for people who'd fallen underfoot. They pulled up one man, and he shook free from their grasp and started leaping up again. Far away, I heard the South Entrance open. Somewhere, news cameras were rushing towards me, but I did not let that stop me from observing the happy spectacle in front of me.
Some of the falling papers were not green dollars, but silvery coupons for admittance to the house tonight. At first these were looked at with puzzlement, and then they too were fought over.
"This is so inefficient," Johan said. "You're just encouraging them to cluster around your docking and mooch off you. If you really wanted to help people, you'd—"
"I don't want to help people," I said. "I want to help my people."
He shrugged. Then he heaved his backpack up onto his shoulders and walked into the crowd.
Father was right that we couldn't really improve their lives. This was the world we had, and no one knew how to change it. But that didn't mean I had no responsibility towards them. At least I could be kind to them. Father shunned them, and still they persisted in the belief that they were vassals of the Suarez family and that their fortunes rose and fell with ours. Despite the flimsiness of this belief, it provided them with some consolation.
I wouldn't be as cruel as Father. I would do my best to show them that my family was worthy of their loyalty.
Over the next several hours, Father telephoned several times to berate me. I didn't take the calls. His opinion wasn't important right now.
The near-riot at our docking station was featured on a number of news channels. At the scene, I'd told the reporters about my newfound commitment to the greater good. It was not a major story, but it was a slow day, and the channels were anxious to recycle images from my spree of five years ago: the high-speed chases, the smashed cars, the burning buildings, the overdosed companions….the evolution of my supposed pathology gave the commentariat something to mash their lips about.
I hired a publicist from the line of professionals at the North Entrance and told him to field all my media calls, while I handled the personal calls.
Ever since my name had hit the airwaves, long-lost friends and family had been calling to accept invitations to tonight's party. I forgave them for their late RSVPs, and ordered Andreas to double, triple, quadruple the size of the celebration.
When Mother emerged from the operating theater, she said, "How much did that stunt cost?"
"Five thousand for the helicopters. Fifteen thousand for the cash."
"Not a bad expense-to-giving ratio. If you can keep that up, I'm willing to give you a little more slack," she said. "At least it's more productive than burning down a nightclub."
"So you saw that they're replaying the old footage."
"It's not my name that's getting dragged through the mud," Mother said. "But…there won't be any property damage this time, right?"
"I don't need to do that anymore."
"Okay," she said. "I knew you'd never really get serious. It's the money; it doesn't let you do anything seriously. At least you didn't end up all fussy like your dad."
With the exponentially increasing size of tonight's party, the whole house was in a tumult. Andreas was barking over the intercom every ten minutes. Each time his voice filled our ears, the workers cursed his name and then redoubled their labor. Everyone who'd ever served before had been hired, and now rank newcomers were being scanned, searched, and put to work.
And Andreas had ordered the reopening of the banquet hall: a vast lung right at the top of the house, covered with a thin bubble of screens that could go transparent to show the sky or could display panoramic views of 1.4 million real or simulated locales. Father hated the extravagance of the place. It hadn't been used since Grandfather's wake.
It was a joy to see it brought to life again. I stood in a corner, as tables and silverware were brought up from the docking station's warehouse by the new workers. The dust was blown out of the place, and its familiar smell of aged wood, with a slight tinge of cigar smoke, reasserted itself. Overhead, the dome was lit up with skeining colors as newly-hired technicians calibrated the screens.
Two Suareztown workers walked past me, holding a table. The older of them said, "Now see here, Dan, I worked here plenty of times. You got to be careful not to scuff these floors. These floors are ancient. The old man installed them when he built this place. Hell, I was here when this room had its first event: the old man's second wedding."
The other worker said, "I heard that whoever's got these silver invitations is gonna get a million dollars tonight."
"Yeah, if that girl can show she doesn't care about money by giving away all her millions by midnight then her dad will feel safe about letting her inherit his billions."
"Shit, my daughter had one. She sold it to Ken Rodgers for $100."
The silver tickets were Letitia's innovation. I hadn't yet asked her what she meant to do with them.
I was still in the banquet hall when Father caught up to me several hours later. The tables were set up and clad with silverware. The servers were being hastily retrained at the other end of the hall. Father wove through the tables with a hasty step. He was within arm's reach before he let a word escape from between his gritted teeth.
"You're going down that evil road again," he said.
"I did what I said I would. I gave the money away."
"I've had a lot of calls today from my brothers. They said that these 'charities' are the new fad amongst you kids. You use the money to stage horrible events: rallies, fights, races…making people crawl and debase themselves for money…they showed me pictures of the charity games that your cousin Letitia threw on her fund day….they made me sick…really physically sick…I thought you'd changed. After your last…difficulties…we talked things out. You went to therapy. You said you realized you're not the center of the world."
"I did what you should have been doing," I said. "You're too old to understand that we can't treat people like mere employees anymore. They won't let us. They demand to be treated like peasants, because peasants get taken care of."
"And the gladiator fights your cousin staged? Was that taking care of them?"
I had never heard of any fights, but I wasn't going to cede my ground. "Some kind of abasement has to be demanded from them as a symbol of our interlocking responsibilities."
"I don't know how I raised such a monster," Father said. "I can't believe I spent all those years arguing with your Grandfather about you. I'm done. I'm giving all this up. The servants, the docking stations, the house, the helicopters, the cars, everything. It was a mistake to keep them. Your Grandfather deserved them, because he'd earned them. You and I haven't earned anything. I'm putting the house on the market tomorrow morning."
"You can't!" I yelled, as Father stalked away.
I stopped myself from running after him. He couldn't be serious about selling this place. An owner without a house would be nothing more than a name on a bank account.
By nightfall, there were a dozen houses floating above, larger than clouds, and sending down tiny helicopters full of guests. Some had flown for much of the day in order to attend what was being called the rebirth of an enfant terrible onto the social scene.
All three of Father's brothers arrived, with wives and children in tow. Mother's family was cobbled together, thrown on planes, and picked up from the airport by limousines. More distant cousins, whom even my father hadn't seen more than twice in his lifetime, appeared by the score. And there were a number of attendees from other families: the Aldritches, the Yamagachis, the Stern-Hsus, the Bilals, the Mittals, the Morgensterns, the Okowonwes, and many more. I recognized most of the scions from my younger days.
And then there was Morris Kenneman. How could my Father have invited him? He and his wife walked alone through the halls of my house. Wherever they went, eyes narrowed and heads shook. At dinner, the Kennemans' assigned tablemates stood up and went to other tables. My father took pity on the CEO and invited the Kennemans to sit with him and Mother up on the dais. In the presence of my parents, Kenneman became expansive. He exploded with laughter and clapped my father on the shoulder. My father sat forward, with the splayed fingers of one hand poised on the table, and soaked up Kenneman's business lectures with open eyes. Why did he worship that man so much?
After dinner, the guests drank copiously, and the youngest set, the ones who'd come up after me, sampled the new drugs in bathrooms and bedrooms and carports. The din reached a crescendo and fell and started again like it was some modern composition, 'Wealth," As Performed By Three Hundred Voices.
I was feted wherever I wandered. I preferred the darker corners, where my old set gathered to relive more dissipate days.
I'd last seen Father on the dais in the banquet room. He was speaking in soft, but quick, words to Kenneman. Their heads were so close that they were almost whispering into each other's ears. When I tried to gain his attention, he remained silent.
I was standing with Letitia, Sean Stern-Hsu, and Leon Aldritch in the sunroom. While I'd spent the last five years contemplating my place in the world, they'd spent them in a continuous debauch. Apparently, I'd chosen the more taxing occupation. They'd managed to retain the beauty which I'd lost.
"Natalia was always the wildest," Sean said. "Remember the time you bought out a library that was closing down, and burned all the books?"
"Oh god, you loved fire," Letitia said.
"It was a political protest," I said. I didn't like to be reminded about those wild days. I'd derived far too much pleasure from that mayhem.
"What were you protesting?"
"I don't remember."
"You did everything for the cameras," Letitia said. "And you got more of them than anybody."
"I…must have been protesting the library closure."
"When did you ever go to a library?" Leon said.
"People use libraries," I said. "They're necessary things. People use them. Come on. We all know that this is about more than cameras."
After a few more drinks, Letitia took us down into the little holding room where we jailed erring servants until land-based authorities could be reached. Right now it was crammed full of about fifteen Suareztowners. We stared at them through the one-way glass.
"They're the ones who came with the silver tickets," Letitia said.
"What do you have planned?" I said.
"Maybe an Impossible Game?"
"What about A Red Herring?" Sean said.
"My sister tried an Adoption Party," Leon said.
I laughed along with them. During my exile, I hadn't paid much attention to society news. I had no idea what they were talking about, but I had asked Letitia to make my return as chic as possible.
Some time later, I detached myself from them and shadowed Father through the back hallways. I needed to catch him alone and make him see reason.
At the end of the hallway, someone said, "I can't believe anyone could have this many servants."
"Most of them are temporary. They're from the Suareztown." I recognized Johan's voice.
"Oh god. From that slum?"
Johan came into view. He had a girl with him who I'd never seen before.
"Hey Natalia," he said. He waved to me. "This is my college friend, Sarah."
"So all this is for you, then?" Sarah said.
"It's my birthday party."
"How can you bear to do something like this when people are living in shacks all around you?"
"I'm sorry, what family do you serve?" I said. If this girl and Johan came from such wonderful villages then some family was making the rest of us look bad.
"I work," Sarah said. "I'm in marketing."
"Mother works," I said. "She doesn't earn very much money, but she likes it. She pulled herself up. I'm glad you managed to pull yourself up. It's not easy to do."
"What is she talking about?" Sarah said.
"What family is your village attached to? Have you ever met them? They might be here."
"I'm not from a slum!"
"Oh, you're another one like Johan. Some of the older Suareztowners still call their home 'a suburb' too."
"We're nothing like your fucking ghetto servants," Sarah said. Her face was flushed now, and her chin was shaking. "I work. My parents work. Everyone I know works. I have an MBA in—"
"Oh," I said. "You're managers." I turned to Johan. "You as well?"
He shook his head as if he didn't understand me.
"What is your father's profession?"
"He's in financial services, what he does is…"
As Johan went into a long explanation, I got angrier and angrier. Two managers had snuck into my home and taken advantage of my hospitality. Of course, I'd rubbed shoulders with managers before, at the stores and bars and clubs where that vulgar class was only too quick to squander the earnings it had stolen from us. But at least in those settings, I was not expected to socialize with the managers.
"How dare you step foot in a productive household?" I said. "How dare you steal our hospitality?"
"Look," Johan said. "I'm just travelling around, trying to learn about the world and about how people live so that I can start trying to fix all the prob—"
"You want to manage the whole world, don't you?" I said. "I thought you were a struggling beggar, trying to find a place. But you're just a manager spy."
I turned and walked away. I thought of having them ejected, but I'd much rather round up Sean and Leon and convince them to pulverize some managerial scum, they way we used to.
While I was looking in the banquet room for Letitia, Sean and the rest, I ran across Father. He was on the dais, worrying away with delicate nibbles at the morsels of flesh inside the broken-open torso of a crab. One of his brothers was snoring next to him. The dome was lit up with a view from Father's hunting lodge in the Smoky Mountains. It was a sped-up view, transitioning from dawn to dusk in less than fifteen minutes, and going through the night and back to day.
I sat down next to him and waved at the sky. "Is that where you're going?"
"I don't know," he said. "Maybe I'll live in a New York apartment."
"You can't be serious. There'd be MBAs everywhere. You might even have to share a wall with one of them."
"What is it that you think your Grandfather and Great-Grandfather did?"
"They were businessmen," I said. "They created wealth. They didn't steal it."
Father snorted. The banquet room was in disarray. There was half-eaten food on many of the tables. The tablecloths were splotched. Near the bar there was a large group of heavy drinkers still going at the whiskey. Here and there, tables were still animated and full of life. Elsewhere, duos looked into each others' eyes or up at the shifting starscape and whispered quietly.
"You can't give it all up!" I said. "Mother and I will veto it."
"I already talked to her. She will approve it, as long as we settle near a hospital. She's anxious to have blood on her hands again."
"And what about me?"
"You have your fund," he said. "We'll allow you a small stipend for your upkeep. And your mother supports your charitable activities. She even suggested that I start my own charity."
"She doesn't support me," I said. "She's just unhappy. She hates us."
"I know you love this house," Father said. "I won't sell it."
"Thank God," I said. "I knew you'd recognize your duty, eventually."
"I'll destroy it," he said. "I'll burn it down like you burned down that nightclub. I'll leave it right on this docking station as a blackened wreck."
"Grandfather built this house," I said. "You have no right to harm it!"
"He left it to me. He trusted me in a way that I'm not sure I can ever trust you."
"That trust was misplaced," I said. "You're ruining this family. You know you're not as capable as Grandfather, so you pinch pennies, trying not to lose the money he left behind. But your miserliness has made you weak and friendless and vulnerable to the managers. They're bleeding you, just as they've bled so many other owners. If we're going to survive, we need to make sure that the servants and workers are loyal enough to combat this management robbery."
"If you want this house to survive, then abandon these regal pretensions," Father said. "Dissolve your trust fund. Return it to me. Learn thrift and caution. Then, maybe, when I die, I'll be able to hand all this over to you in good faith."
I felt a tear forming, and surreptitiously wiped it away. Father didn't say anything. We sat there in silence for a long time. Eventually, he started snoring. I sniffed his glass. It was very full of undiluted whiskey.
"Yasmina," I said. "Please make this dome transparent." The landscape altered, and I could see the blank, grey night. Most of the houses had drifted away by now. One hundred feet below, the Suareztown was lit up brilliantly. There were thousands of people down there. They'd stopped whatever they were doing to look up at me.
Even after a lifetime among them, the Suareztowners were still faintly alien to me. In my mind, they existed only collectively, and I found it hard to credit them with individual thoughts or feelings. I loved my house more than I had ever loved anyone from the servant class. It had cocooned me since birth and learning its secrets had been the major joy of my life.
Was their loyalty really important enough to me to be worth losing the house forever?
"There you are!" Letitia's voice called out. "I should've known you'd be precocious enough to meet us here."
Letitia, Sean, Leon, and the rest of our set had rambled in, herding the fifteen ticketholders, each of whom was now holding a young child.
"You missed the first round," Letitia said. "We did it by the North Entrance. They had to pick their favorite child!"
"The crowd loved it," Sean said. "The women were crying, and blessing each child, and saying prayers over them. It was quite a scene."
There were dozens of news cameras trailing them, held at a decent distance by our guards. Andreas was there in the wings, directing the movements of the crowd. Servants came to the front, near the dais, and cleared the tables. Two workers picked up my father and took him off to bed. The party was ushered towards me.
Letitia sat next to me on the dais.
"We're playing The Scholarship Game," Letitia called out.
All of my set applauded. A few older people stood in the wings, looking on. Some shrank away when the cameras panned to towards them, and others did not.
What Letitia proceeded to outline was an auction. The bidders had educational data on each of these children, and knew all about their potential for work, so they'd compete with each other to pay money to the parent of each child. The winner of each auction would get to take the child away, for a ten year term of service, during which they'd learn a trade. It was the Suareztown dream of finding a place in a big house.
I thought the children would fidget through these explanations, but they stared with wide unblinking eyes and seemed to see everything that was inside us. Only one parent objected. He said, "But we want to work for Mr. Suarez."
Letitia carefully explained that all of us came from good families but any parent had the option of refusing the money when the auction was over.
I was sitting in the place of honor, with all those cameras pointed at me. Letitia served as auctioneer. She brought up the little boy of the father who'd spoken out. I knew that all this about educational data was just a pretense. My set joked with each other, starting off with absurdly low amounts, and only raising their bids infinitesimally, trying to see the father squirm.
The father thought he was going to have to choose between selling off his boy to a stranger for a pittance or losing the best opportunity he'd ever been given.
I entered the bidding, and kept bidding, destroying their fun. I ignored Letitia's whispered comments that I was disrupting the cadence of the game, until she was forced to gavel the auction to a close and declare me the winner.
I sat the little boy down next to me, and motioned for some more food to be brought out.
Letitia whispered, "You weren't supposed to win. Leon liked the looks of that one."
"Wait," I said, before Letitia started the next auction. "Yasmina. Please enable exterior broadcast." It was the protocol my Grandfather had used to show the town his wedding ceremony. I knew that the exterior of the dome would light up with the image of the dais, and that our words would be broadcast through the town at ear-splitting volume.
Then I proceeded to buy all the rest of the children. At first, my set was angry that I'd disrupted the auctions. What was it that they had planned to do with these children?
But then Letitia went among them and told them about a new game. After that, they smiled and bid me up to astronomical sums just to see the sheer, molten hope bubbling out of those parents' faces. I wasn't going to pay the money, of course. I'd claim a misunderstanding and send them off with only a tiny sum, just as I wouldn't really enslave their children, I'd apprentice them so they could learn to be pilots, or sommeliers, or cooks, or waiters and eventually find good places in good households…or more likely just spend their lives waiting, silently, in front of some family's recruiting entrance.
When Letitia returned to her seat next to me, I asked, "What are you doing? If I hadn't stepped in, you'd have riled up the servants."
Letitia wrinkled her forehead. "I thought you wanted to have some fun…"
I opened my mouth and then closed it. My hands smoothed the edges of my dress. Letitia wasn't acting. The reddened faces of my peers were open holes that drained bottle after bottle and spit up jangly laughter. None of them were acting. They'd become what society needed them to be. But they hadn't yet realized they were necessary. They thought they were just having fun.
Letitia rose to raffle off one more child. But then my cousin squeaked and an amplified gasp ran out over the room and, presumably, the Suareztown below. Father had pushed her back down into her seat. He rose up at one end of the dais and shouted, "I'm here! I'm your master, aren't I? Well I'm right here! Listen to me! I have"— voice suddenly grew ten times louder as the contextual operators caught on and began amplification—"an announcement for you!"
I gestured frantically at the walls. I even went so far as to mouth the words, "Yasmina. Cut off the exterior feed." But nothing happened. Her eyes were probably pinned on my father.
"Come on up here, Mo." Father gestured, with an empty champagne glass, at the CEO. A waiter appeared and filled the glass. "Don't be shy. Come up here! This is all going to be yours soon!"
Every organ in my body was switching off. I wanted to stand. I wanted to shout. Letitia looked at me with her eyes wide open and grabbed the meat of my upper arm. But I could do nothing.
Morris Kenneman maneuvered his old man bulk onto the dais. My staggering Father grabbed the CEO's hand and raised it high into the air. All of this was being projected live on the exterior of the house!
"It's a complicated transaction. I'll leave Morris here to explain it. But the company's buying all of this. The house. The docking station. The lodges. The summer homes. Everything. And they're buying back all my stock too. Every share. Morris is going to arrange financing through his contacts in the financial sector. And I'll be stepping down as Chairman, of course. It's time the company was entrusted to more capable hands than mine."
I couldn't speak. I could barely think. Was Father really subjecting our company—'s company— a leveraged buyout?
Morris was stony-faced. He said a few words, but quickly realized he wasn't being amplified.
Father said, "Andreas! Fritz! You've got the contracts. File them." Then he sat down abruptly. Immediately, Fritz was on hand, having shouldered his way past Kenneman. He gave a bottle of water and a few pills to Father, who swallowed them without looking. Kenneman assayed another attempt at a speech, but his voice still came out quiet. He shook his head once and then clambered off the dais.
All around, guests were leaving. Above, helicopters danced around each other as they tried to land and pluck their owners from a birthday party that had suddenly turned into a funeral.
My father sank down, rested his head against the back of his chair, and fell asleep. Fritz organized a crew of servants to carry him to his room. At the foot of the docking station, the Suareztown shimmered: doors were opening and closing; hundreds of people were milling in the streets. Within a few weeks, they'd be living in a Kennemantown.
I woke up with a splitting headache. Letitia and I had kept drinking until early in the morning. She wouldn't stop asking me if things would be alright. Finally, she left me and hopped a ride with Sean.
The house rumbled through my body. Laying atop my bedspread, in the darkened cocoon of my room, I could pretend that everything was still okay. What time was it? I snapped a finger and pointed at the windows.
They remained opaque.
I sat up.
Wait…the house was rumbling a bit too much. I dropped to my knees and put an ear to the hardwood floor. The whole house was humming with the distant orchestral sound of eight engines working in concert.
We were flying. Why? Where was Father taking us now?
I stepped into a pair of sweatpants and shrugged into a t-shirt, then I said, aloud, "Yasmina. Put me through to Father."
Nothing happened.
I walked to the door and it did not open. I tapped on it and it did not open. I slammed my open palm against it and that whispery voice drifted out of the speakers, "I'm sorry, ma'am…Andreas says…"
"What the hell is going on!" I yelled.
The door clanged. A muffled shout. Then footsteps echoed out.
The room filled with Andreas' voice. "Greetings and good morning! Late last night, the house developed technical difficulties that hampered central control of appliances. Currently, we are in the air above Los Angeles, en route to our maintenance station in Yokohama and…"
I put my ear to the door. This wasn't the daily report. This was only coming out of the speakers in my room; it wasn't being broadcast to the hallway.
"Help me!" I shouted. "I'm held prisoner!"
Andreas' report suddenly cut off. I kept shouting and slamming my body against the door. Finally, I heard voices on the other side:
"…she's a whore…just keep her hip-deep in cocaine and cock and she'll let us do whatever we want…"
Then Andreas said: "She'll stay inside until we figure out how to manage her." The voice wasn't coming through the speaker. It sounded like he was actually standing in the hall.
"…then what? You'll be in charge? No…fuck that…" this voice sounded a bit like one of the cooks.
"Last night she promised money for my boy…what about his scholarship…?"
Andreas said, "We must stay calm. She will be released eventually. We just need to—"
"You all saw her face last night. She hated the old man just as much as we did. She'll be grateful to us."
"Sides…we can't keep her holed up for long…all kinds of reporters have been calling and emailing and trying to get ahold of her…"
This time the speaker was my usual door-guard: "…if someone's gotta be in charge…then it sure as hell can't be old Andy here. He'd work us to the bone in no time."
"…she was going to give away all her money. She wants to help us!"
Andreas said, "We can manage without her. You just need to trust me."
But the chant had already started: "Let her out! Let her out! Let her out!"
Through my speakers, Yasmina whispered, "Forgive me" and then the door opened. The servants surged into my room. Carmina put an arm around me and warded off the rest with her other hand. She pulled me out into the hall. The guards yelled at me to forgive them. A woman, holding her son by the shoulders, told me she didn't have anything to do with this, and did I really think her boy could—
"Wait!" I said. "Where are my parents!"
A throat cleared. Andreas said, "Your mother is in her operating room."
Fritz burst out. "We did it for you! He was going to sell your house!"
They swirled all around me. Through the windows, all I saw was white. Not clouds—. Off to the left, a huge jet kept pace with the house: it was our in-flight refueling tanker. With it, the house could remain aloft indefinitely.
"Where are we?" I said.
They went silent. Andreas said, "We're in international waters. The Arctic circle."
"This is insane," I said. "You can't hold my father prisoner…"
"He's sick," Andreas said. "Thousands of people saw him behaving erratically last night. He's been getting stranger and more withdrawn for ages. Now he doesn't want to see anyone."
"Take me to him."
The crowd pulsed and opened up a space for me. Cooks, guards, maids, drivers, and dozens upon dozens of people I'd grown up alongside— of them met my eye. Andreas stepped into the vacuole.
"No," he said. "Your father doesn't want to see you."
"That's a lie. You're imprisoning him."
Andreas pursed his lips. "Fritz and I both witnessed and signed the documents attesting to his incapacity." He sighed. "And…in light of that incapacity, certain provisions of his and your trusts have become active. As of today, you are his voting proxy for the company stock."
A warm sensation sludged my veins and Carmina caught my outflung hand. We tottered for a bit, but she kept me upright.
"The company is still ours, then?" I said.
"Your Father grew ill before we could file the paperwork," Andreas said.
Someone in the crowd shouted, " He was going to sell us downriver!"
They devoured me with hungry eyes. As my breathing quieted, they grew stiller and slower. Movement stopped. Even the boy eventually stopped fidgeting. How desperate must they have been to join together in this terrible plot?
"What are you going to do?" said the boy's mother.
I looked out the window and shivered. Then I let out a holler. "Can't say I'm in the mood for snow right now. How about you prep the shuttle? I think I'll take a run down to Rio. A few days on the beach sounds like just the ticket." We hadn't visited the Brazil Suareztown in six years. If the house servants were this desperate, then how much bolder and angrier must they be in the neglected Suareztowns? Our family's apathy had bred so many enemies.
"We'll have you prepped for departure within the hour," Andreas said. The crowd milled around me. Then Carmina smiled, and they broke open, sweeping me along in a babble of questions. At one point, I was carried past mother's operating room. Amid the torrent of noise, she emerged with the sensory-transmission gloves still on her hands.
She nodded to me. "I thought you'd finally have to make something of yourself," she said. "But I hear you wriggled free."
"Take good care of dad!" I said. "I'll be back soon to check up on him."
"You could have been something," she said. "You could have done something."
I was loaded up with bags upon bags: everything I could possibly need. They didn't give me an unescorted moment until they loaded me into the shuttle. But then, just before its doors closed, Andreas plopped down beside me.
"If he goes free, you know that he will sell everything."
I was going to have to spend the rest of my life watching Andreas. He was my Morris Kenneman.
"Give me a month or two to build the case for dad's 'illness.,'" I said. "Then we'll transfer him stateside." I'd give him his apartment in Manhattan, if that was really all that he wanted.
Andreas nodded slowly, and then he popped out. The hatch snapped shut immediately.
As the shuttle flew past the house, I thought I saw a man in a suit standing in the window of Father's bedroom. But he did not see me. His fingers were touching the glass and his eyes were locked on the glaciers down below.
Copyright 2013 Rahul Kanakia
Rahul Kanakia
Rahul Kanakia is a science fiction writer who has sold stories to Clarkesworld, the Intergalactic Medicine Show, Apex, Nature, and Lady Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet. He currently lives in Baltimore, where he is enrolled in the Master of the Fine Arts program in creative writing at Johns Hopkins University. He holds a B.A. in Economics from Stanford University and used to work as an international development consultant. If you want to know more about him then please visit his blog at http://www.blotter-paper.com or follow him on Twitter at http://www.twitter.com/rahkan.
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redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


Objective: To investigate selected salivary properties in children with cleft lip and palate and to compare them with non-cleft children. Setting: The study was conducted in Dentistry College, University of Baghdad and Alwasity and Ghazi Alhareery Teaching Hospitals, Baghdad, Iraq. Patients and methods: A total of 36 children with nonsyndromic repaired cleft lip and palate, aged 4 to 10 years, and a total of 37 non-cleft children were investigated for flow rate, pH, total antioxidant, uric acid, and total proteins. Results: Salivary total antioxidant capacity and total protein were significantly different between cleft lip and palate children and non-cleft children, while for salivary flow rate and total antioxidant were significantly lower in children with cleft lip and palate than in non-cleft children. Concerning pH and uric acid, there were no significant differences. Conclusion: Some salivary chemical constituents and some physical parameters deviated from the norm in children with cleft lip and palate.


Ive been too busy working on my new shop lately to get a lot of time on the car, but Ive managed to get a few things done recently.
Going back to stock inner tie rods (yes I had something different, not getting into that here) but I still wanted to be able to adjust bump steer. I came up with some M18 female rod ends and had a friend machine me some bronze bushings for the ball end to allow me to still use the 5/8" hardware in the strut.
Then I wasted two nights trying to work out the bump steer but realized that the perfect tie rod position is in the middle of the steering arm on the strut. So for now Ill have to make due with what I have. Future plan is to fabricate a new strut tube with the arm in a lower position.
For anyone that hasnt seen it before, this is the bump steer gauge I made up in action.
And the bump steer I ended up with.
Also I got the shade on the gauge cluster extended to try and combat some nighttime glare I get on the windshield. Its pretty clear what I added. The cluster is all abs, except for the front panel which has an aluminum overlay.
I skipped the picture where I added and sanded the body filler.
Finally, again to help with the glare, I made and installed a voltage regulator circuit to limit the voltage to the dash lights. No pics.
I finally got some more gold film and put a strip under the new exhaust tube on the floor. Now the exhaust is basically done, maybe Ill start it up this weekend.
Added some of the gold stuff on the bottom of the turbo heat shield and finally made another mounting point for shield at the compressor end. The tab that sticks down (up on the picture) is to shield the alternator from the turbo / down pipe.
Also spent a couple hours removing a huge area of glue from the old silver DEI heat shield tape that I had on the bottom of the hood. What a mess.
Wow I missed the previous update, car is looking amazing! Very nice job on the instrument cluster and hood, love it!
Wow this is some |=ucking amazing work! Get this man a engineering job stat!
Good thinkin. Ive been an electrical engineer for 14 years now.
Your cavi is beast man. Good shizz.
Still not a ton of progress, the barn has been keeping me super busy.
I did manage to finally wrap the down pipe a couple weeks ago, and added some spark plug boots to hopefully control temps a bit better.
The car is inspected now. I just need to reset the front toe, drain and refill gas and I can take it out again, someday.
looking great man. i love the titanium wrap. @!#$ works great.
Think its about time to try and get this pig back out. I need to pull the cover off and figure out what I want / need to do to make it happen.
Anyway, interest has been sparked now that the barn is pretty well done and we have no major projects scheduled for around the house this summer (other than finishing the attached garage).
Anything wrong with the car? Pulling valve cover?
Nothing wrong per se. At a min I need to replace the in tank fuel pump and do a little wiring.
I may address some other long standing annoyances, we shall see.
Oh wow - really nice build man!
So two plus years after I thought I would get back to this, im getting back to this, haha.
Tore into it last night. Its def in need of a huge cleanup from sitting since 2012 or whatever.
The "gas" that was still in it was pretty awful.
The plan here is to make everything less complicated, and more safe and reliable.
-New fuel lines as the oe ones are pretty rusty and slightly undersized (need to verify length and get it on order asap). Also noticed the brake lines to the rear are looking pretty bad, so Im going to replace that quick too. Looks like I have enough 3/16 nicopp in stock.


Stars: Bing Crosby, Fred Astaire, Marjorie Reynolds, Virginia Dale, Walter Abel.
The good old Hollywood holiday classic which not only has charm but embarrassing racism, yet sometimes you must forgive a film that is simply an example of its time. Bing sings what is possibly the most famous Christmas carol, White Christmas—oh boy does that now sound racist, Astaire dances while intoxicated, and the film trollops through not only the most notable American holidays but also Lincoln Day and Washington's Birthday... But Christmas is not the same without watching Holiday Inn.
The plot centres around Jim Hardy (Bing Crosby) wanting to settle down and enjoy the simple life in the country on a farm. After his fiancé leaves him for Ted Hanover (Fred Astaire) as she herself does not want to give up her dancing career Jim finds out just how un-relaxing farming can be. So instead of farming he converts his farm into the Holiday Inn that only opens on calendar holidays.
This gives the film plenty of excuses to come up with songs for all the in between holidays where Bing can sing along and Astaire can dance to. There are a few forgettable songs, one is quite memorable for Lincoln Day, but sadly that is because Jim decides it must be performed in blackface—a ruse to hide Bing's love interest from fiancé stealing Astaire. The film then flows through the holiday seasons with Hanover visiting the Holiday Inn and trying to find the girl (Linda, played by Marjorie Reynolds) he danced with on New Years Eve that happens to be in love with Hardy.
The middle section is a tad meandering which means I usually lose focus every time I watch it, but the beginning and ending is strong and nicely bookended by the song White Christmas.
Until next year Holiday Inn!


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You are here: Home / Camera Lens / Sony announces the 100mm F2.8 STF G Master, a Lens with Impressive Bokeh Quality
Sony announces the 100mm F2.8 STF G Master, a Lens with Impressive Bokeh Quality
Sony introduced a new addition to their flagship G Master Series line, the 100mm F2.8 STF GM OSS mid-telephoto prime lens designed to bring "breathtaking bokeh." The lens was specifically designed for this purpose all while still maintaining the high standard resolution that has been associated with the G Master Series of lenses. This lens provides fashion, nature, portrait and wedding photographers with a powerful tool for capturing more creative images.
The level of bokeh quality achieved by the lens is attributed to the advanced optical structure of the lens which features an eleven-bladed aperture. In addition, the lens also features an optical apodization lens element which functions similar to a neutral density filter in that it creates gorgeous transitions between areas that are in-focus and out-of-focus. As a result, the images produced feature bokeh that is super soft and smooth. This also allows a subject to really stand out of the defocused parts of the foreground and background. Vignetting is a worry among photographers but Sony promises that that would be kept to "an absolute minimum" with this lens.
Sony's new 100mm lens also supports contrast AF and focal-plane phase detection AF. The lens also promises to bring AF performance that is not only fast but accurate as well thanks to a high-precision, quiet direct drive Super Sonic Motor (SSM) system. This lens is also capable of 0.25x close-up capabilities and features a built-in macro switching ring. The lens also features a built-in Optical SteadyShot image stabilization, an AF/MF switch, aperture ring and a focus hold button that is customizable. The newest member of the G Master Series is also resistant to dust and moisture.
The lens will be released in Europe in March 2017 for $1,500 US and $2,050 CA.
A new FE 85mm F1.8 lens
The new 100mm G Master Series lens isn't the only new lens that Sony revealed. A new compact, lightweight FE 85mm F1.8 mid-telephoto prime lens was also introduced and is aimed at producing stunning portraits.
The new 85mm F1.8 lens is a compact, versatile and lightweight addition to Sony's line of FE lenses. This lens is marketed for those who are new to full-frame photography and are looking for equipment that provides quality but also doesn't break the bank.
With an F1.8 aperture, this lens is capable of producing really sharp images with stunningly soft backgrounds. The extremely smooth bokeh is achieved thanks to a nine-bladed aperture mechanism. Also helping along is a double linear motor system that allows for focusing that is fast, quiet and precise.
Sony's new 85mm F1.8 lens also features a customizable focus hold button which can be assigned with functions in the camera body like the Eye AF feature. The lens also has a responsive focus ring and an AF/MF lens. Just like the 100mm lens, this one is also dust and moisture resistant.
This lens will be released at the same time as the 100mm G Master Series lens in March 2017 for $600 US and $800 CA.
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Here's the very rare 12″ promo for debut single, 'Obscurity Knocks'. A very simple piece with a big letter A on one side of the white labels – good effort Go! Discs.
The plain black sleeve comes complete with a promo label. And that's about it really.
Here's the 7″ vinyl of debut single 'Obscurity Knocks' – all the way from the outback.
Identical front and back cover to the regular UK release with the exception of the London Records logo, whilst the centre labels are altogether, entirely different.
From the outside it looks like the regular 7-inch release doesn't it?
Slide out the vinyl and you discover that the B-side label is also the A-side label – I believe the man from the pressing plant got his P45 after this discovery.
I'm not sure if the A-side does in fact play 'Only Tongue Can Tell' – the old Dansette disnae work anymore – but I'm sure it does.
Anyhoo, a nice wee rarity – tiddely-om-pom-pom!


The Government appointed Mr. Shaktikanta Das, as the Governor of Reserve Bank of India for a period of three years. The Appointments Committee of the Cabinet approved Mr. Das's appointment for a threeyear period. Accordingly, the order was issued by the Department of Personnel and Training to this effect.
Das was the face of the Government during the demonetization exercise and used to brief the media almost on a daily basis during the period November 9 and December 31, 2016.
He has been on the RBI board in his capacity as the DEA Secretary and the DEA is seen as the bridge between the Finance Ministry and the RBI.
Das is a postgraduate in History and was involved in the preparation of over a half a dozen Budgets during the present and previous Governments.
He was also instrumental in preparing the ground for the Goods and Services Tax (GST).
Das hails from Odisha and is a Tamil Nadu cadre IAS officer, and retired after 37 years of services.
Postretirement, the Centre appointed him as the Sherpa for the G-20 summit and also nominated him on the 15th Finance Commission.
On previous occasions, IAS officers like D Subbarao, Raghuram Rajan, YV Reddy, RN Malhotra, and S Venkitaramanan were also appointed as Governors who were Civil Servants.


text:
How to Update Your Android Device and Apps
Back to Basics Back to BasicsWe all have that one seemingly "easy" task we've never quite figured out. This week, no problem is too trivial, no question too stupid. Just because it's simple doesn't mean it's not a hack.
There are many good reasons to keep the software on your phone or tablet up to date. Running the latest version of Android ensures you have access to all the newest features available for the operating system and that your device is as protected as possible from attacks by hackers.
The same goes for apps: with the occasional exception, the latest version of an app is typically the most stable and secure. Updates also often deliver new features that make an app more useful.
If you're new to Android, however, figuring out how to make sure your device is as up to date as possible can be a bit challenging. Here's how to make it happen.
Updating your Android's operating system
With Android, when and if you're able to get an entirely new version of the operating system depends on your carrier as well as the type of phone you have.
Google's Pixel phones get each update first, but after that, updates are rolled out slowly to different devices and carriers. These updates are based on schedules created by device manufacturers and carriers, not Google. In general, the newer your device is the faster you'll see an update. If you have an older phone, you might not get an update at all.
Beyond full new versions of the operating system, Google also pushes out periodic small updates to Android. Those updates often contain fixes for bugs and security issues, making them super important to download.
If you've seen news of an operating system update or received a push notification saying there's one available for your device, updating it is super easy (though the specific navigation might vary for your Android):
Connect your device to wifi
Tap on Settings
Select "System"
Select "Advanced"
Tap "System Update"
Click "Install" if one appears.
On that same page, you might also see a button giving your phone permission to automatically download updates over wifi. I personally like to leave that toggled on, and recommend you do the same.
Your phone might also use a push notification to alert you that an update is available. If you tap on that you can often begin the download and installation process without having to navigate through a ton of menus.
Updating Android Apps
Screenshot: E.Price
Google offers setting options giving you the choice to allow all the apps on your device to update automatically, have just have a few apps update automatically or require you to choose every update manually. The process is the same for both released versions of apps and beta versions. Here's how to accomplish all three options:
Automatically update everything
Open the Google Play app
Tap the hamburger icon (those three lines on top of each other)
Tap "Settings"
Tap "Auto-update apps"
Select whether you want updates over-the-air or only when you're connected to wifi (I suggest selecting the wifi-only option)
That's it! Once you've set that up, all the apps on your device will automatically update themselves and you can kind of forget about it.
Automatically update a few apps
If you've turned off auto-updates for all of your apps, you can reenable the feature on an app-by-app basis:
Tap the hamburger icon (the three lines on top of each other)
Tap "My apps & games"
Tap "Installed"
Select the app you want to update
Tap More (the three dots in the top right)
Check the box for "Enable auto update"
Update each app manually
This is by far the most tedious option, but if you don't want apps changing on you unexpectedly, it's potentially your best option.
Tap the hamburger icon (three lines on top of each other)
Tap "My apps and games"
Apps that have updates available will have "Update" button beside their names. Tap that button for any apps you'd like to update. You can also manually check your beta apps by navigating to the "beta" page found here.
Keeping your phone or tablet updated with the most current version of the operating system and the apps your favorite apps can help ensure you get the most out of your device.
Emily is a tech, travel, and alcohol reporter based in San Francisco. She is also the author of the book "Productivity Hacks: 500+ Easy Ways to Accomplish More at Work--That Actually Work!"
CruzeHatch
I never have to do any of this. My apps are all automatically updated on a regular basis (usually at night when it's idle and plugged in). My Droid Turbo did this and My S9+ does it. I thought it was just this way normally


This morning the NRLCA filed a National level Step 4 grievance on issues related to the Postal Service's expansion of its Carrier Pickup Program. Managers in the field are disallowing Carrier Pickup credit for some qualifying pieces. All rural craft employees are encouraged to keep records of all disputed mail pieces each day for the remainder of the mail count.
RI Rural the last couple of day whenever I click on one of your stories it says webpage unavailable. Have I been kicked off the page since I do almost all my accessing on facebook? It has always worked before.
This one won't work for me either.
Just went to some archived newsletters and clicked on links that I have read from the newsletter before and still get the error webpage not available there too. I am using Chrome because I had a problem with IE and facebook. Cannot seem to access webpage from new window either. NNNOOOOO – I need ruralinfo!
You're probably running into difficulties because this article directly links to a pdf file. Some phones don't know what to do with pdf's natively or can't read them without installing an additional app. Try on a desktop/laptop or install a pdf reader for your phone.
You need to get a smart phone in order to read article.
Opened for me using Chrome.
Maybe it was down for a bit? Is it working for everyone now?
It started on OCT 16, 2014. It is now FEB 2015. Who was "on watch" for the changes to Art. 19? Asleep at the wheel, again!!!
Has anyone heard the rumor that the USPS will throw out the recently completed 2015 mail count? My steward heard it from a postmaster.


text:
Trinity at Lewis & Clark, Boise
Trinity at 1st Street, Meridian
Trinity Home Living, Meridian
Crestwood Serenity, Meridian
Pricing Rate Sheet
About Trinity Living
Trinity Assisted Living
Where Your Family Becomes Part of Ours
Elishia Smith, president
Our President, Elishia Smith, is a Boise native and a dedicated, compassionate person that thrives in her career. Elishia's venture into Assisted Living began as a necessity for her young family. Her son was born 10 weeks premature and she was told that due to medical issues he would have to most likely live in an assisted living situation for his entire life. Elishia's strong sense of motherhood and dedication to her family drove her to acquire her first facility; and named it after her sweet daughter, Trinity. Elishia ran the facility by herself and just 2 other employees with the goal of making a family atmosphere so she could personally take care of her son. As time passed, Elishia's son defied all doctors' expectations and he had grown to be a healthy young boy.
During that time, Elishia's passion for her resident's well being grew to a point to where she considered each and every one of them as part of her family. Elishia ensured that on a daily basis that her residents had a safe, secure and comfortable home that they could call their own. And so from her humble and small beginnings in the big world of assisted living, Elishia had unknowingly formed the foundation and philosophy of Trinity Assisted Living of Idaho, Inc...
Elishia continues to be a driving force in the Residential Assisted Living Facilities by being part of several different organizations that have over sight or are advocates for residents. Elishia has held different positions with the Community Care Advisory Council for Idaho including being the Vice Chairman. With her busy schedule, Elishia still continues to visit each of her facilities and personally get to know the clients. When people feel they have a supportive 'family' blood relation or not, lives are enhanced. She strives to reassure that this is a home 'where your family becomes part of ours'. Trinity Assisted Living of Idaho is a direct reflection of what Elishia embodies as compassion and integrity.
Daythun cole, chief executive officer
Daythun began working for Trinity Assisted Living in 2006. Working part time, to help make ends meet as a single father of 3; and to help his sister Elishia, in her company's infancy. Within a very short period of time, he found a knack for the corporate world!
He quickly had a vast understanding of the State requirements and easily made his mark by taking the reins in showing how he could help make Trinity a better company. Stepping in to manage employees and ensuring the residents were cared for with our expected high standard.
Daythun persevered on the fast track to climb the corporate ladder; being Administrator over 3 facilities and tech support for the entire company. He also served 2 years on the Community Care Advisory Committee. Born and Raised in Boise, served our country as a proud US Marine and continues his service with our fragile population, thriving each day with his responsibilities of Chief Executive Officer. Trinity Assisted Living is far more than a job for Daythun, he has accomplished a lifetime CEO Career for one of the top companies in Idaho!
Hayley Herring, ADMINISTRATOR-Trinity home living & crestwood serenity
Hayley was born in Council Idaho and enjoyed traveling many states during her young adulthood before she settled back into Idaho in 2011. Upon her return "home", and through her love of caring for others in need, she discovered an opportunity to pursue a career that she never imagined possible for herself; an Assisted Living Administrator!
She worked diligently learning all she could to become an Administrator. Through her training and broadened knowledge of the business, she recognized the sincere love she had for the people she was helping and she couldn't imagine doing anything else. Hayley has been an administrator since 2012 and we are proud to say that she is now running our very first facility, Lewis & Clark.
Hayley has a strong sense of leadership and her contagious smile is welcoming to anyone! We feel she is a precious asset to Trinity, and look forward to many years together! Hayley says she "feels very blessed to stumble upon an opportunity to work for Trinity Assisted Living. I am beyond excited to be a part of this family and strive to provide the best care to our residents that I possibly can. I get to come to work every day and see smiles and know that I am a part of making that happen. It doesn't get any better than that!"
Athina abel, administrator - trinity at lewis & clark
Athina was born and raised in Idaho. Growing up she spent a lot of time with her Grandmother who was the family caregiver. Athina learned a lot from her grandmother and discovered she had a passion for taking care of people. At the age of 18 she obtained a job at a large assisted living facility. After 2 years she decided to pursue a job in a memory care unit. Working with Alzheimer's patients in a smaller environment became her passion. As challenging as memory care can be, she adored the bond she developed with each of her residents. After being a caregiver for 12 years she became employed by Trinity Assisted Living. Her love of the elderly and passion for helping others, made her decide to take her career another direction and she became an Administrator. Every day she comes to work with a positive attitude and the desire to help the residents and the staff. Being a natural born caregiver, she loves working in a smaller environment where she can leave her desk to visit with or assist residents. She also feels blessed to be able to share the love of helping others with her caregivers. She enjoys being able to pass on some of her knowledge to the care staff to make them the very best they can be!
Jennifer Heil, administrator - trinity at 1st street
Jennifer began working for Trinity Assisted Living as a part time caregiver in early 2014 shortly after the opening of our third facility. Jennifer quickly proved to be a major asset and dedicated staff member. Eventually Jennifer came on board full time at Trinity Assisted Living to build a career. One of the many attributes of Jennifer that stood out to management was her unwavering dedication to make time in her day, to show each resident that they were valued.
If the day was too busy during her shift for Jennifer to sit with any resident, she had no problem donating her time after her shift, to give that one on one time for any resident she was unable to get to. After seeing this for over a year, it became very clear who the logical choice was for our new Activities Director. We were so pleased and excited to have Jennifer pioneer this new aspect of Trinity Assisted Living. We were fully confident, that with her passion and full dedication to enhancing our resident's quality of life, Jennifer would elevate the activities program for Trinity Assisted Living of Idaho, Inc.
With Jennifer's success as the Activities Director, she soon decided to make the big step in obtaining her Administrators License. She has stepped into the role of Administrator with a seamless transition and we look forward to working with her for many years.


text:
using System;
using System.Text;
using System.Security.Permissions;
using System.Runtime.Serialization;
using OpenADK.Library;
using OpenADK.Library.Global;
using OpenADK.Library.au.Common;

namespace OpenADK.Library.au.Learning{

/// <summary>A Component</summary>
/// <remarks>
///
/// <para>Author: Generated by adkgen</para>
/// <para>Version: 2.6</para>
/// <para>Since: 2.4</para>
/// </remarks>
[Serializable]
public class Component : SifElement
{
	/// <summary>
	/// Creates an instance of a Component
	/// </summary>
	public Component() : base ( LearningDTD.COMPONENT ){}

	/// <summary>
	/// Constructor that accepts values for all mandatory fields
	/// </summary>
	///<param name="name">A Name</param>
	///<param name="reference">A Reference</param>
	///
	public Component( string name, string reference ) : base( LearningDTD.COMPONENT )
	{
		this.Name = name;
		this.Reference = reference;
	}

	/// <summary>
	/// Constructor used by the .Net Serialization formatter
	/// </summary>
	[SecurityPermission( SecurityAction.Demand, SerializationFormatter=true )]
	protected Component( SerializationInfo info, StreamingContext context ) : base( info, context ) {}
	/// <summary>
	/// Gets the metadata fields that make up the key of this object
	/// </summary>
	/// <value>
	/// an array of metadata fields that make up the object's key
	/// </value>
	public  IElementDef[] KeyFields {
		get { return new IElementDef[] { LearningDTD.COMPONENT_NAME, LearningDTD.COMPONENT_REFERENCE }; }
	}

	/// <summary>
	/// Gets or sets the value of the <c><Name></c> element.
	/// </summary>
	/// <value> The <c>Name</c> element of this object.</value>
	/// <remarks>
	/// <para>Version: 2.6</para>
	/// <para>Since: 2.4</para>
	/// </remarks>
	public string Name
	{
		get
		{
			return (string) GetSifSimpleFieldValue( LearningDTD.COMPONENT_NAME ) ;
		}
		set
		{
			SetFieldValue( LearningDTD.COMPONENT_NAME, new SifString( value ), value );
		}
	}

	/// <summary>
	/// Gets or sets the value of the <c><Reference></c> element.
	/// </summary>
	/// <value> The <c>Reference</c> element of this object.</value>
	/// <remarks>
	/// <para>Version: 2.6</para>
	/// <para>Since: 2.4</para>
	/// </remarks>
	public string Reference
	{
		get
		{
			return (string) GetSifSimpleFieldValue( LearningDTD.COMPONENT_REFERENCE ) ;
		}
		set
		{
			SetFieldValue( LearningDTD.COMPONENT_REFERENCE, new SifString( value ), value );
		}
	}

	/// <summary>
	/// Gets or sets the value of the <c><Description></c> element.
	/// </summary>
	/// <value> The <c>Description</c> element of this object.</value>
	/// <remarks>
	/// <para>Version: 2.6</para>
	/// <para>Since: 2.4</para>
	/// </remarks>
	public string Description
	{
		get
		{
			return (string) GetSifSimpleFieldValue( LearningDTD.COMPONENT_DESCRIPTION ) ;
		}
		set
		{
			SetFieldValue( LearningDTD.COMPONENT_DESCRIPTION, new SifString( value ), value );
		}
	}

	/// <summary>
	/// Gets or sets the value of the <c><Strategies></c> element.
	/// </summary>
	/// <value> A Strategies </value>
	/// <remarks>
	/// <para>To remove the <c>Strategies</c>, set <c>Strategies</c> to <c>null</c></para>
	/// <para>Version: 2.6</para>
	/// <para>Since: 2.4</para>
	/// </remarks>
	public Strategies Strategies
	{
		get
		{
			return (Strategies)GetChild( LearningDTD.COMPONENT_STRATEGIES);
		}
		set
		{
			RemoveChild( LearningDTD.COMPONENT_STRATEGIES);
			if( value != null)
			{
				AddChild( LearningDTD.COMPONENT_STRATEGIES, value );
			}
		}
	}

	/// <summary>
	/// Gets or sets the value of the <c><AssociatedObjects></c> element.
	/// </summary>
	/// <value> An AssociatedObjects </value>
	/// <remarks>
	/// <para>To remove the <c>AssociatedObjects</c>, set <c>AssociatedObjects</c> to <c>null</c></para>
	/// <para>Version: 2.6</para>
	/// <para>Since: 2.4</para>
	/// </remarks>
	public AssociatedObjects AssociatedObjects
	{
		get
		{
			return (AssociatedObjects)GetChild( LearningDTD.COMPONENT_ASSOCIATEDOBJECTS);
		}
		set
		{
			RemoveChild( LearningDTD.COMPONENT_ASSOCIATEDOBJECTS);
			if( value != null)
			{
				AddChild( LearningDTD.COMPONENT_ASSOCIATEDOBJECTS, value );
			}
		}
	}

}}

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub


Designed and handmade by Halinka, Goldilocks has a dress of 1950's fabric trimmed with braid at the hem , a floral bodice and two long golden plaits. daddy Bear sports a tartan waistcoat and bow tie, Mummy bear wears an apron with vintage trimmings and young Bear has an embroidered tank top made by his mum !! Goldilocks measures 12cm tall, Daddy Bear is 14cm, Mummy Bear is 13cm and Baby Bear is 10.5cm. All four arrive together in one gift box.


text:
You are at:Home»MOVIE NEWS»Talented Actor Naveen Chandra As Sid From 'Mosagallu'!
Talented Actor Naveen Chandra As Sid From 'Mosagallu'!
By TeluguNow . on	 December 2, 2020 MOVIE NEWS
Talented young hero Naveen Chandra is celebrating his birthday today and the team of his upcoming film 'Mosagallu' released a special poster wishing him. Naveen Chandra rose to fame with 'Andali Rakshashi' and proved himself as a good actor in films like 'Aravinda Sametha', 'Devadas', 'Nenu Local', 'Miss India' and others.
He is playing a key role in the upcoming crime thriller 'Mosagallu'. Manchu Vishnu is producing this film apart from acting as the lead actor. Suniel Shetty is playing the role of a tough police officer while Kajal Agarwal will be seen as Vishnu's sister. The film is a story of the world's biggest IT scam and promotional content released till now generated good buzz over this film.
Directed by foreign filmmaker Jeffery Gee Chin, 'Mosagallu' will be released in Telugu, Tamil, Hindi, Kannada and Malayalam. In the birthday poster, we can see Naveen Chandra as the character named 'Sid'. He looks serious and gives an intense vibe. He looks good as usual and it is to be seen how his character plays out in this crime thriller.


text:
WGP 2015 WL 2015
Intercontinental-Group1 Intercontinental-Group2 Intercontinental-Group3
Finals-1 Finals-2 Finals-3
Pools and Ranking Teams Statistics
Intercontinental-Group2
Overview Team Roster Players Facts & Figures
Team profile Schedule Ranking Photos
{{timeLabels[currentTimeType]}} Select your time
Under the guidance of head coach Julio Velasco, Argentina came second behind France in Pool D of last year's World League to finish joint-fifth in Group 2. They had been sixth overall a year earlier and, although they finished a disappointing 10th in 2012, were in the top five in the three editions before that. They had to settle for joint-11th place in last year's World Championship in Poland after finishing sixth in their second round pool. With his team now ranked No.6 in the world by the FIVB, Velasco is targeting new highs to add to his resume after a glittering coaching career largely spent overseas.The Argentina team made their international debut at the South American Championship in Rio de Janeiro in 1951, claiming fourth place. They competed in their first World Championship in 1960 in the same city, where they finished 11th. Since then they have competed in 10 World Championships, with a bronze medal-winning campaign on home territory in 1982 being their best effort to date. Argentina also took the bronze medal at the Seoul 1988 Olympic Games, their highest finish in six appearances at the Olympic Games. Their medal haul from the men's tournament at the Pan American Games is five - one gold and four bronzes.
Scheduled Live Complete
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12 8 4 2 3 3 0 3 1 21 27 21 1.285 1067 1074 0.993
12 7 5 3 2 2 2 1 2 21 26 21 1.238 1068 980 1.089
12 3 9 0 1 2 0 4 5 7 13 32 0.406 944 1048 0.900


Thrift store clothes have the worst hanger appeal. Things are wrinkled. Sometimes they're dusty. Sometimes items are haphazardly placed on the racks. That doesn't mean they aren't gems. That's how I felt about this vintage red sweater with the amazing balloon sleeves.
It just looked like a big shapeless blob on a hanger. The hanger was buckling from the massive bulk of the sweater. It had a few pulled threads that were definitely on their way to becoming holes.
Otherwise, it's a pretty great sweater. The color is divine. The weave of the knit runs horizontal and vertical creating an interesting pattern. It's oversized in a comfortable blanket type of way and the sleeves are so fab.
Old sweaters don't always have the best fit. They come in so many great prints but end up being too bulky and boxy. This sweater drapes beautifully. Even with the thickness, I can tuck them into my jeans.
The jeans are another great thrift find. I like finding the ones that are already washed and broken in then I won't be surprised by the fit after washing.
Sometimes I thrift things that I'm not quite sure about. That would be the boots I'm wearing. I've thought about dyeing the calf skin all black because the print is my least favorite about the boots but have decided to sell them. They're great boots just not right for my closet. You win some. You lose some.
I'm liking them with my sweater though.


Distance education is the delivery of essential knowledge and skills through cost-effective technologies that do not require regular face-to-face instructions. This has been an effective means of reaching teachers and students in remote areas. Apart from being a good medium of instruction, distance education also makes friendships possible across geographic divides. Students get the chance to know each other, even if you come from different parts of the country or different parts of the world. If you're interested in making friends with your classmates, here are a few tips.
Get to know your classmates. Projects and modules are usually assigned on an individual basis, especially for distance education courses that don't require a conference type of online meeting. But for those projects where you are assigned group mates or partners, you can start getting to know your classmates by talking about things other than schoolwork. You might have shared interests that you can exchange ideas about.
Communicate regularly. Regular communication by email, chat or even VoIP facilitates interaction, and can help you work better on your school assignments and studies. If you cannot understand some concepts or lessons, you can ask your online classmates. This also fosters personal communication, in that your presence, even if online, provides for good companionship.
Use online tools to "see" each other. Given the distance, you might have difficulties pursuing friendships with your classmates because you cannot physically see them. But with a webcam and a voice conference such as with Skype, you can see each other while you communicate. This helps you and your virtual friends become more comfortable with each other, because you won't have to wonder what the other person looks like, or if he is how he describes himself.
Use offline tools to communicate, too. Chatting and sending email might be the quickest way to communicate with friends over a long distance. But you can also try communicating offline, such as by sending letters or postcards. Or in those instances when you need to send over projects or school works through physical means, why not include personal gifts, too?
Go beyond friendship inside the virtual classroom. Most friends at school are friends out of convenience. You might share the same class, same school bus, or same lunch schedule, but once you graduate or move up a level, you might find different sets of friends. The same goes with friends in distance education. After you finish your course, you might find yourself slipping away from your friends because you will no longer have shared classes. But if you can endeavor to still keep communicating, and still sharing interests, you can maintain the friendship long after. Perhaps you and your long distance friends can also sign up for more distance education courses together.
Making friends from a distance needs a balanced approach. You must have reasons why you want to make friends. Distance education does not usually require peer-to-peer encounters among students, but this can sometimes be helpful. Some subjects might be difficult to understand by oneself, so you need peers to talk to, and they might be located in a location far from your own. As a student, however, you need to be always reminded of your reasons behind making acquaintances with your classmates, which is primarily to advance your education. But sometimes things take a twist, and you might find yourself people who are genuinely interested in you not just for academics, but also for friendship. When this happens, you have a double success with distance education.